In This Game Called Love
by MouHitoriNoKei
Summary: One game, one love, one fear...to lose it all. (AU) Malik, the new king of DDR must face trials and tribulations to keep the man he loves. (Yaoi! MalikXRyou. NO FLAMES! Chapter 4 is up)
1. I'm In The Mood For Dancing

::Jumps around, so extremely happy:: HEY GUYS! KEI'S BACK WITH A NEW FICCY! ::Giggles and huggles the school compy and her notebook:: My friends...anyway, guys...this is a new fic...AU, I guess you can call it...about the bestest game ever, DDR, and the best anime ever, Yu-Gi-Oh! Great mix, huh? Anyway, I'd like to first off thank Sai, Christine, and Jess for helping me with the names of the chapters and just listening to me complain. I really hope you guys enjoy this...I love this fic so much...please...no flames...I can't take it....Chapter 2 is in the writing...so I hope you guys enjoy!

Oh! And before I forget...if the titles to the chapters look familiar, it's because I used names of DDR songs for the chapter titles, and I selected lyrics from each song to end the chapter with. I love DDR!

**::DISCLAIMER::**

::Malik waddles out dressed as a huge DDR pad:: Okay...Kei made me do this...but Kei doesn't own Yu-Gi-Oh, DDR, any of the songs in DDR...and the what not...enjoy!

**Chapter 1: I'm in the Mood for Dancing**

He didn't know what turned him on more, the rhythmic movements or the hypnotic sounds, the sweat that trickled down the forehead of his partner of their soft, somewhat satisfied grunts, faster and faster he moved, feeling his muscles tighten in excited exhaustion. His pace quickened as did his partner's. This pleased the one with the burnt ecru skin as he pressed his body faster, harder. His partner was amazed by such astounding, precise movements, delicate though powerful. His lean, tanned body pressed on, pushing the limitations of his own muscular frame. Pace quickening, hearts pounding, grunts escalating. The look on the tanned one's face shifted, a coy grin dancing upon his lips as movements halted, his tense body easing into its' much needed relaxation. Using his naked forearm to clean the sweat from his brow, he glanced over at the one panting beside him, a smirk painted across his face.

"Great game, man...but I am victorious." He confidently said this before the final results were tallied. The blaring colors of the scream before them screamed, the tan one's confidence being rewarded. The lights dimmed a bit, the music fading out, only to be replaced withy rabid applause. The two warriors only eyed the glowing screen before them, one with a sleek grin, the other a nervous smile

**Player 1: AA**

**Player 2: B**

The murmurs amongst the onlookers were those of sheer shock. This newcomer, the tanned one, beating the arcade's champion, a cocky ebony haired boy who assumed a bit too much (And we all know what happens when we assume, don't we?) With flaring jade eyes, the former champion stepped down off of the dance pad and out of the lime light. The new king of Dance Dance Revolution has been crowned!

"Hey." The new champion called out to the one he had dethroned. The one with the raven haired threw the blonde a bitter glare, only to be met with an extended hand and a soft smile. "That was a great game, Duke. It was an honor to finally face you."

Taking the new king's hand viciously, he grasped it tightly as if longing to squeeze the very life out if it, though the healthy grip was only returned. "Yeah...same to you, M..." The name of his adversary had slipped his mind, though he couldn't care less anyway, so the lost information and the act of its recovery were tedious.

"Malik." The blonde, still smiling, could tell by the pause that his name was forgotten, but this didn't faze him. "I hope to play you again."

"Soon enough" Replied Duke, forcing out a congratulatory smile. "Soon enough..." he turned his back as the mob of love stricken fan girls mobbed Malik. He snarled, leaving the arcade, his former palace, where the new king had unknowingly exiled him from. Such bitterness filled him, but no matter. He knew this problem had to be solved, his past harshly extinguished, and he knew just the man to do it.

Duke, in all truth, as a little cowardly rich boy who, since birth, had been fed with the biggest silver spoon money could buy. Academically, he couldn't compare to the 'poor, unfortunate street trash', but he did excel at one thing, and that was Dance Dance Revolution. The boy had been playing since it was released years before, and since the first time he set his bare feet on the plastic board, he loved it. Destined to be the best, he ignored everything else around him, school, his parents, his friends, and played. Day in and day out, from dawn until dusk, he never missed a beat.

After conquering his board in the comfort of his own basement, he journeyed out into the open world, knowing that it was filled with Dance Dance possibilities. Better songs, worth opponents, louder music, brighter lights. It was almost paradise.

It didn't take him long to become the king of the arcade. He was undefeated and everyone knew it, well, everyone except for the newcomer to the arcade scene, Malik Ishtar.

He had approached the champion with the innocent intention of a friendly game, though it escalated into 'He challenged the champ!!' and 'That newbie wants to steal the crown!" The fight was on, the challenger awarded the glory. Like flies to a carcass, the fans abandoned the former ruler and embraced the new king of DDR.

The cheering hadn't seized, the arcade still buzzing with excitement that stung Duke's ears. _That was my fame...mine!_ He felt his fists tighten, digging his full nails into his own palm. The pain was numbed, as was his entire body. _My friend, my fame, my game!!!_ His mind screamed as, like a rabid wolf, he felt the quivering snarl well up in the back of his throat. Rage and loath filled him until a sickening chuckle emerged and a disgusting grin surfaced a snake like grin that curled sharply at each corner of his mouth. "He'll pay..." From his designer jean pocket, he pulled out his high tech, rich boy weaponry, his cell phone, and scanned through his dozens upon dozens of numbers, olive orbs darting from name to name. _Bingo!_ That smirked returned as his slender fingers molested the soft rubber keys with quick jabs. _Malik...this will be the last time you play DDR on my turf!_ He raised the phone to his ear, hearing nothing more then the soft ringing from the other end. _I'll finish you off one way... _

"Talk to me." The voice on the other end called, a harsh, loud voice that surprised Duke, though sent him into a world of revengeful fantasies.

_Or another..._

__

__

_----------_

_Dancing (dancing)_

_I'm in the mood, babe_

_So let the music play_

_Whoo, dancing (dancing)_

_I'm in the mood babe_

_So get up and let your body sway_

"_I'm In The Mood For Dancing"_

_::Sharon::_

AN: The starred section up there, about assuming...thank Hannibal for that...Don't ASSUME, because you make an ASS out of U and ME


	2. Little Bitch

Well, I'm glad I got such a good respone to "In This Game Called Love" Woot! Chapter two is ready to be posted, but first, some thank yous are in order.

KentouKurige: First to review, Shouri. Thanks! I'm glad you liked. It was either Duke be a evil bishie or Tristan be a evil...semi-bishie. You pick.

Elusia: Thank you for the compliment. -.- I love to write, so when I do, I write with my soul and heart. The DDR thing was something I've wanted to do so...whoop, there it is. I hope you enjoy the rest.

ChibiMaouIwa: Think of the first paragraph as what I'd like to see you doing someday Iwa...::WinkWink:: Ya know I love ya, Iwa-kun. Thanks for reading and I'm glad it was up to your approval.

MouHitoriNoSai: Don't worry...Chapter 10 will come as soon as I can get through 3-9. XD! Anyway, more will be on the way soon, just for you tomodachi...oh...and Ryou...say another word and Malik is punished.

Yume-chan: I'm updating! And consider this just for you and the other four who read it. I love you all.

Anyway, here's chapter two of "In This Game Called Love"! Enjoy and please leave your comments! I love reading them!

DISCLAIMER: ::Malik walks out with a set of headphones, listening to the DDR song, "Little Bitch":: Hey...um...Kei doesn't own DDR, YGO, or any of the music mentioned...::Sings along as he trots away::

**Chapter 2: Little Bitch**

The scene had changed, the days drifting by into weeks, each week more awaited then the last. The cold winter blossomed into a beautiful spring, accompanied by a flowery sanctuary and a chorus of peaceful birds. Along with the scene outside, the arcade seemed to shift as well.

When the former ruler's reign was in the fullest effect, certain rules, thought left unsaid, were strongly and strictly enforced.

All challenges made to the champion must be presented written, alone with your average dance score. Anything below a B will be overlooked.

Proper shoes must be worn. If the champ's board is scuffed, so will your face.

The board, at any time, must be cleared if the champion feels the urge to play.

You must maintain a B average or higher. A list is posted on the machine. If your average is any lower then the aforementioned, you will have to play on the back board.

The back board was as a punishment to any Dance Dancer. One of the more earlier versions of the game, the back board featured no more then fifteen songs, those of which dubbed 'undanceable' by the players. On either side of the board, the only buttons that worked where the up and right, so the highest grade anyone could get (if they didn't fail within the opening seconds) as an E. Basically, it was a Dance Dancer's worst nightmare personified.

Those were the rules and for some reason beyond anyone's comprehension, they were obeyed, until the monarch of the arcade came crashing down in a haze of loud music and hysteric applause. When Malik was crowned 'King', he abolished all of the preset, idiotic rules, tearing 'the list' off the wall and shredding it. The board was now free.

Along with the abolishment of the rules, he improved the arcade for the better. He fixed the dreaded back board himself, along with giving free lessons to beginners. Everyone loved the new king, except for the one who hide amongst the shadows, eyes tracing every movement, ears picking up on every sound. A set of cold, chestnut orbs eyed him with an oddly enticing interest.

"B-bakura?" A voice from behind the shadow meekly whimpered.

"Shut the hell up!" Snarled Bakura, shooting a glare towards the voice's owner, who shuddered when those eyes were locked upon him. He looked away from the one who towered over him, the 'Enforcer', Bakura.

He was more commonly called 'The Enforcer' because he was the one who made everything listen to Duke's ridiculous rules and made them follow the outrageous dictatorship. When his voice that matched the roaring thunder and eyes that challenged a roaring flame, no one dare appose or question him, especially that one who loyally stood beside him, as a puppy who had been found in the pouring rain, shivering and lonely. This puppy would gaze up to the sky, praying to whatever God is up there that there will be a refuge, a savior to extract the pain from his heart. God wasn't listening, and sent him the cruel hands, the cold eyes of Bakura.

Were they involved? That could be said, for the meek one never left the side of the sentry, standing tall and strong. Were they in love, a question that could not be answered without a scoff and a snicker. If anything, it could be classified as a sickening obsession on one end and a fearful respect on the other.

The quiet one would constantly reevaluate his life and the choices he made, or was made for him. His silence was his weakness, which is what made him easy to be taken advantage of. He was a quiet boy which a gentle heart, a disposition so kind, though a tormented soul. Behind his dark eyes, an untold story of frightened screams, crystalline tears, and a trembling touch frozen in time. Silenced forever were his hopes.

Ryou didn't speak, for he thought words weren't necessary and rather bothersome. Ever since he was a child, living with his two parents (Workaholics) and his twin sister, Amane (Younger sister, to be exact, just about four minutes), he felt, no, he knew his words were just muttered syllables of utter annoyance.

"Daddy?" He would whisper softly, tugging on his father's t-shirt as he turned, exhaustion interlaced within his gaze.

"What?" He would snap bitterly, his voice stinging the child's ears. Swallowing all his fears, he would meekly speak.

"I-I'm hungry..."

Cocking an eyebrow, he'd give an inquisitive look to his son, saying nothing for a shirt while as juvenile eyes gazed up endlessly. "You're what?!" He finally hissed his voice one of a dictator who heard a ridiculous request.

The little boy repeated his innocent request. "I'm hungry, Daddy."

In moments, the lean, powerful frame of his father would be pressed up against his, his hot breathe consuming the little boy's pale face. Eyes of solid ice would stare down, not at him, but through him, as if he wasn't worth the time to be looked in the eyes, which was where Ryou got that idea from, even now.

"You ungrateful, little bastard." His strong fingers wrapped around his son's slender shoulders, digging full nails into the virgin flesh. Letting out quiet whimpers of pain, the little boy closed his eyes tightly, hoping it would be over soon. The yelling continued, and Ryou continued hoping that all the screams would fade away, and in a pile of twisted metal and broken hopes, the screams did eventually fade.

Both Ryou's parents and his little sister died one night in a car crash. Ryou was left home alone one lonely, rainy night when the other three traveled out, never to return. The little boy stood outside in the pouring rain, the tears cascading down his pale face. A neighbor tried to explain what happened in soft, simple words, but Ryou wasn't listening. From that night on, he kept his lips tightly sealed, except for the occasional him when he nodded. He felt that now, even though his family was cruel and ignored him, he still loved them, and without them, he had no reason to speak. Words meant nothing to him.

"Ryou?!" A slap on the back of his head sent him hurdling out of his reminiscing as he looked up into the cold orbs of Bakura. "Ryou! Dammit, do you ever listen?" Thinking the question was directly intended for him, he nodded in reply. Bakura snarled and struck Ryou again. "I don't need your smartass attitude, Ryou." He hung his head in shame, nodding in understanding. "Listen, get your ass over there and do what I told you to do...now!" Ryou's mission was clear to him as he made his way through the gaggle of mesh clad boys and pierced girls, brown eyes scanning the area for Bakura's somewhat flamboyant prey.

Target locked.

Taking a deep breathe, Ryou approached the champion, who was in the middle of giving a clumsy brunette her daily lesson. Her legs seemed to melt under her as even the easiest of Light mode songs gave her considerable trouble. Malik had rock solid patience, that he did, as he placed a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. "Don't give up, girl. You can do it. Just remember, feel the music." The girl nodded stupidly, engulfed in Malik's immense handsomeness. She left his presence, which left Malik and a rather plain looking, ashen haired boy, so quiet that he barley faltered even as he breathed. The blonde turned and gasped, jumping a bit at the form standing before him.

"Whew!" The blonde chuckled to himself, that same grand smile on his face. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" He let out a soft chuckle before looking down at the disgustingly normal looking boy, no older then twelve he would think; though he was the same age was the tanned one, crisp and young at nineteen. He said nothing did the silent one, as he did nothing more then hold a paper out to Malik, expressionless and unblinking. "What's this?" Malik asked curiously, taking the paper from his hand. His lilac orbs traced over the chicken scratch in dark, thick black letters. It turned out to be one of the old CC forms, created by Duke. (CC, by the way, stood for 'Challenge The Champ')

Name: Bakura

Age: 23

Sex: Please...

Average: AA

Why Challenge The Champ: To kick his ass

Favorite Song: Afronova

Mode: Heavy

Malik's eyes reread the words over for a few moments before lifting his eyes to look curiously at his thought to be opponent.

"Listen, if you wanna challenge me, just say it. It's no bi--" He was interrupted by the shaking of Ryou's head. "Not you?"

Ryou nodded.

"Then, who?"

The ashen haired one lifted his slender finger to point to nothing more then dark amber set in satin darkness. The hazy lights of the arcade caressed the darkness's lean, muscular frame in an eerie, cloudy glow. With soft steps that echoed endlessly through the dusty annals of time, the darkness being slowly drizzled with the dim lights, revealing Malik's next opponent, and if Bakura had his way, his last.

"I challenge you, Malik Ishtar!"

For once, some of the playfulness drained from Malik's face as in a low snarl, he replied, "You're on..."

Clash of the Dance Dance titans. King Vs. Bitter Minion, Champion Bs. Challenger, all the bets are off. They stared each other down, sized each other up, a smirk on the challenger's face. As different as they seemed, great minds do think alike.

_He's going down..._

_----------_

_You tried but you never quite carried it out_

_You only wanted to die in order to show off_

_And it you think it's gonna bleed all over me_

_You're even wronger then you'd normally be_

"_Little Bitch"_

_::The Specials::_


	3. Destiny

Okay….TOOK ME LONG ENOUGH! But, it's done, Chapter 3 of "In This Game Called Love" I, like said, adore this story, and I could only wish I could get the chapters out faster. I warn you now…this is a really long chapter…21 pages handwritten. Hehe… Thanks for watching out for this! Okay…shoutout time!

Silent Dreamweaver: I'm glad you think DDR and YGO is a great combo. ::Smiles:: Same here. Glad it's workin' for ya and I love ya too! ::TackleHugs::

MariksMyra1614: Yes! Another Malik/Ryou fan! ::waves the flag:: Anyway, thanks for reading, and ::Grins:: I'm glad you liked how Malik was described. ::Wink::

KentouKurige: Yes! Dancies for all! Thanks, Shouri.

Terri: I agree, Ryou does need saving! This chapter is just for that…hehehe…anyways! Malik and Ryou are gonna hook up around chapter…hmm…6-ish. Sorry for the long wait. Don't worry…only 3 more to go. ::Smiles:: Thanks for reading!

So, thanks to everyone who reviewed or read and just didn't review…either way, Thanks! So, on with the disclaimer!

Malik: ::Sighs deeply and looks around:: Ya know what…I'm beautiful…and I need to be told…::Walks around shirtless::

Ryou: ::Nosebleed:: Malik, you're beautiful…

Malik: I know…::Winks:: Anyway, Kei doesn't own Yu-Gi-Oh, Dance Dance Revolution, or any of the lyrics used. Thanks for reading! No flames, please…me and Ryou will cry….

------

**Chapter 3: Destiny**

A crowd slowly fathered around the two Dance Dance tycoons, mumbling under their tired, sweat induced breathes.

_I've played that guy…he killed me!_

_He came close to a Triple A!_

The triple A, the most sought after prize in the DDR world. Playing an entire song Perfect, not an easy task.. In this arcade, no one had ever achieved the accolade of a Triple A, though many would try and fail, try and fail, and eventually lose all the faint confidence they had had, retreat from the arcade and go on a temporary hiatus, rethinking why they wasted time and money on a stupid game. They would return the following week with pockets overflowing with new, shiny quarters, jingling excitedly as they were slipped into the machine, knowing full well they were part of a full hearted attempt, which would like the many before, fail.

Auburn eyes gazed into violet, sickening determination consuming those dark orbs. The main course was about to be served, and Bakura was quite enticed by the appetizing opponent. With a curved tongue, he licked his hungry lips, leaving a dull shine upon the thin, pink slits. His forehead glistened slightly, the sweat slowly gathering. All the hot, never-ending breathe of the fathering crowd added to the all around humid, muggy temperature of the cluttered arcade. The droplets that trickled down the challenger's temples accented the paleness of his face, though the one who stood beside Bakura stood paler then he. Not even the lights, as dim as they were, could darken the pasty complexion of Ryou. He was silent beside Bakura, but he couldn't help but glance at Malik.

Ryou lacked many things, but for what he lacked, a unique gift was bestowed upon him, a keen judge of character. He could look someone in the eye and in moments, he knew if a terrible past plagued them or if selfishness is what drove them. What he saw in Bakura's eyes was egocentric greed and an immense hatred for many, maybe all. It mattered not, but he wanted to analyze Malik. Ryou wanted to know what was so special about him.

Shyly, Ryou lifted his head and tried to peer into the lilac pools, rippling with confidence. The ashen haired one was taken back by what he saw in his eyes, such eloquent elegance, benign beauty, and a genuine glimmer that entranced him. He soon became lost in the abysmal glory those lilac orbs provided for him, a kaleidoscope for things you had failed to see in himself or anyone else for that matter. _He really is something_, though Ryou as he was slowly hypnotized by Malik, but he was brought out of this deep thought by a powerful voice, one that forever haunted his fragile mind, though the voice for once snapped not at him, but the voice's opponent. The blonde stood solemnly, expressionless, steady.

"So, _King_," He, Bakura, said the word as if it were lethal poison plastered upon his lips. "Do you except my challenge or are yo--?"

Malik snapped. "I accept." Bakura wasn't given time to complete his vicious remark, and in any other case, he would have been simply and immediately annoyed, thinking his words were those which to be respected and feared, though now, when someone who knew nothing of his reputation had the nerve to challenge his words with ease amused him. Bakura chuckled.

"Very well." With light steps, Bakura stepped onto the now emptied board. Those who were playing heard the challenge laid down and quickly cleared the battlefield. The challenger stepped onto the second player position, awaiting the spot to his left to be filled, and it was rather anxiously by Malik. A crowd fathered slowly, then more and more, then by the droves they gathered to watch the colossal clash. With slender, steady fingers, the quarters were slid into the small slots, though the glimmering silver coins clung desperately to their sweat drenched palms and fingertips. The sound, soon after, blared as the game was about to begin.

As odd as it sounded, there was a designated DDR referee for matches such as this. He always positioned himself where he could clearly see both combatants and make a judgment call if need be. Today's official was a lean blonde with orbs flaring with amber embers. He looked to his right, then his left, and proceeded to speak.

"This will be a three song battle on Heavy!" His voice rang loudly and clearly, as the two stared each other down, adrenaline pumping. "The song selection will be as follows; the champion, then the challenger, and finally, a song selected at random. Agreed?" Malik nodded though Bakura's obnoxious opinion had to be let loose.

"Why does he get to pick first?"

"That's just the way it always has been. I just--"

"Well, I just don't get why we can't change that. I mean, haven't you ever heard 'change is good'? I mean, it's stu--"

"Let him pick first…" Malik hissed in an aggregated tone. "I could care less."

Bakura snorted, rather pleased with his actions. "No, your majesty…you can do first."

Though on the sidelines, Ryou heard the entire conversation and he pondered all the words spoken. He noticed the sharp change in the tanned one's personality. He watched the gentle lilac hues dramatically shift into a violent violet, ablaze with malice intent. This scared Ryou, for he had never before seen a change as drastic as Malik's so quickly. _This…this is amazing…I've never seen anything like it. He has such passion in both anger and joy. It's amazing…_ The ashen haired one slowly was forming an interesting obsession with him, whose emotions were scattered and profound, though readable and oddly inspiring. He continued to study this fascinating specimen, observing his fixated glare upon the ashen haired one who smirked rather devilishly.

"And now, the match to decide the Dance Dance Revolution champion!" The blonde official announced in a clear, booming voice as everyone cheered with rabid excitement. "To my right, the challenger, Bakura!" A few scattered in the crowd applauded weakly, as if they were nothing more then fear induced claps, but it was all Bakura needed to further inflate his already enormous ego. "And to my left, the reigning champion, Malik!" The small arcade exploded with wild whistles and powerful praise. This caused Malik, in his deep concentration, to crack a smile. The arcade minions adored their king and this admiration sickened the challenger. "And now, let's get ready to dance!"

Again, the crowd exploded as the two took their ready stances, eyeing the screen though not focusing on the blaring, vibrant colors that the screen provided, no, but only using it as a medium to glare at the foe's glaring reflection. Bitterly, Malik clenched his ecru fists as he was forced to look into the eyes of the one whom, for reasons not even he knew, annoyed him to the endless point of no return. He couldn't explain why or how in the short time he knew him, Bakura was able to push all of Malik's buttons and become quite the bothersome pest. Maybe it was because of his blatant disregard and disrespect of the game and its use of instilling fear on others. Malik tried to conjure up every reason he could possibly thing up to hate him. The feeling was mutual.

He snapped himself out of his trance as it was his turn to select the first song. He scanned through the vast library of catch tunes and entrancing lyrics. Round and round the list spun, passing each song at least twice, not being satisfied with beats he would usually adore. The indecision caused undue irritation to Bakura, as he angrily folded his muscular arms neatly over his chest, his heavy black boots tapped against the metal face of the board. Time was against him as it ticked away, a few seconds left to pick the song that may give him even the slightest advantage in this match, an advantage that was extremely critical. Finally, the song list stopped revolving and a song was selected with but a few seconds to pare. Bakura's expression shifted to one of extreme disgust as he glanced over at the horrible song's selector.

"What are you," He paused and spat out the words with a cruel tone. "A fag?" A few were entertained as the childish 'Ohhs' and 'Ahhs' filled the air. This caused the tanned one to gain a smirk.

"You're one to talk, aren't you?" More 'Ohhs' and 'Ahhs' filled the air thick with the rivalry that with each passing moment escalated. An annoyed scowl plastered itself upon Bakura's lips as he parted them to retort, but was quickly and cleverly interrupted. "If I'm correct, you're the one who makes a boy follow you around 24/7." He chuckled softly, "Surprised he doesn't come into the bathroom with you to wipe your ass." Eyes widened, jaws dropped and gasps echoed as everyone around roared with laughter.

"I can't believe he said that!"

"Does he know who he's talking to?!"

"Now he's really gonna get it!"

Mindless chatter ruled amongst all as Bakura, for once, was rendered speechless. No one had ever been so openly disrespectful to the most feared being in the arcade, and his methods, with such ease and unwavering confidence, never once caring that a fist would meet his face, stomach, and ribcage. _Does he have a death wish?! _Was the most frequently asked question amongst the gossiping gaggle that surrounded them.

"How dare yo--!"

"I say we make a wager."

Bakura cocked an eyebrow, rather intrigued by the tanned one's proposal. "I'm listening."

"If you win, I'll leave this arcade and never dance again." Horrified gasps filled the air as all the onlooker's jaws hung slack. They objected to Malik's proposal, but the champion's genuine smile returned. "But, if I win," He paused, letting his lavender orbs trace around the crowded room with careful concentration until they met a set of chocolate orbs that sparkled with minute curiosity. When he knew his target was aware, he lifted a caramel colored finger to address, without words, the prize he wanted to claim. "I want him for a month." The entire crowd seemed a bit perplexed, as did poor Ryou, who had just been announced as the prize for the match. "So," That same hand extended towards Bakura, who looked a tad apprehensive. Quickly stripping himself of his cowardice façade, he grasped Malik's hand with fierce force, his alabaster hand blushing as more force was applied. Malik still grinned as Bakura snarled with sickening satisfaction. "Do we have a deal?"

"You're on."

With the first song chosen, the challenge set down, and the crowd buzzing, the stage was set for round one!

The aforementioned song that Malik had chosen, the one Bakura had objected to rather harshly, was a song by the name of "Speed-Over Beethoven", an interesting take on a classic. Like Malik's personality, the song was very lively in beat, cheerful, but the words themselves were rather sad, lonesome.

_Into the night, you'll make me cry_

_I need your love to save my life_

Those words repeated over and over in his head, because in all honestly, that's all he did want, was love. He was a very outgoing, charming person, but he often, more like always, kept to himself. He adored being noticed, being talker to, but he rarely was. He had no true friends, only those who admired him on the Dance Dance floor. No one had ever said to him with truth in their eyes 'I like you for you.' It was something Malik longed for, a reason why he woke up each morning, hoping, praying that today would be the day he found a friend.

He lived alone, Malik did, in the district of town even the rats had forgotten. Malik had once heard someone say 'It can't wait all the time', but that didn't apply to the neighborhood shunned by the light. Quiet, though busy with the nightly robbery and police search. The bars overflowing every night while the malnourished and under funded library lay in ruins, only now used for not to gain knowledge, but as a hideout for the drug addicted. Malik was no stranger to this life without light, living a life shrouded in doubt and darkness. That's why the arcade was Malik's sacrilege, his sanctuary, and by Ra, he wouldn't allow it to be stolen from him!

The dance began, rather quick tempos hastily taking control of Bakura and Malik's bodies, throwing them into a whirlwind of upbeat movements. The arrows blazed by, leaving a blaring trail of vibrant colors behind. Their feet slammed hard against the metal dance pad, the bangs echoing endlessly through their ears. Such sleek, fluid movements, smooth transitions, all perfectly executed in a flash of brilliant light and symphonic melodies, it was poetry in motion, two bodies controlled by the enslaving music. The onlookers cooed and purred, watching the heated competition, though one person's fascination was deeper then others.

Ryou's gaze was focused upon the tanned one. For a reason not even he knew, Ryou had an immense fascination, an obsession almost, for the tanned one dancing before him. Something he couldn't explain, a force beyond control, he was a slave to the exotic vision, so close, yet so far away. His immense beauty was in a class all its own, hypnotic and contained divinity unmatched, yet so out of reach for someone like the pallid one.

_No! _He slapped himself mentality, ridding himself of the saint dancing in his daydreams. _I'm with Bakura…well…am I really? _He threw a glance at Bakura's cocky grin, his cynical eyes. Was this what Ryou wanted? He dare not let his thoughts drift only further into the land of reckless fantasies and dreams beyond the grasp of man.

When Ryou's gaze focused back up to the game, he was shocked to find the first song was coming to a hasty end, both dancers not even breaking a sweat. Their steps slowed, breathes steadied as the scores displayed themselves before the two anxious sets of eyes. Before the grades were shown, Bakura chuckled.

"Heh. Child's play."

"Really?" Snorted Malik, a grin dancing upon his lips. "From what I could see, on line…oh say, 45…you stumbled a bit. Still nailed it though. Impressive." Bakura's face contorted, forming an expression of sheer loathe. _How did he…the mistake was no minor…I just lifted my foot a fraction of a second too late, and he fucking noticed! How the hell… _Bakura lifted his eyes slightly to see that confident grin upon Malik's lips, and this filled him with anger beyond comprehension. The crowd spoke amongst themselves, some having a want to feel intelligent, though this attempt was horribly executed.

"He did! Line 45!"

Bakura heard this mindless chatter and from the back of his throat came a hoarse, vicious snarl, much like that of a hungry wolf's growl as with knifelike movements, he whipped around and roared.

"Shut up!"

Everyone silenced, fear taking control of the aggravating situation. The onlookers were reduced to looking like dozens of deer caught in a headlight's glaring gaze. Satisfied, Bakura turned to fact the screen, the scores revealed.

Player 1: A

Player 2: A

Tied! The audience who still dared to speak after Bakura's booming intervention murmured comments of confusion. They knew Bakura strived for the best, and never had he tied! The one with the flaring auburn eyes fumed silently as now it was his turn to choose a song, and with no hesitation, his fingers slammed down hard when the song entitled 'Afronova' blared through the speakers. That devilish smirk reappeared The song he choose had a rather tribal beat, quick in tempo and plentiful in steps.

"Now, this is my song, ya stupid punk." Bakura viciously snarled, an overconfident smirk setting upon his thing, sharply curved lips. A small, though finely pointed ivory fang poked through his hungry lips. He gave his opponent a final wicked flare before the music began and their legs and feet stomped to the beat.

Ryou's shy gaze again focused upon the two bodies, watching them push themselves to limit's never before met. He admired these musical warriors, one just a bit more then the other, though it was silent admiration, which is what it would forever remain. He would not vocalize his odd fascination, for he did vaguely remember what happened the last time his eyes innocently met another:

_"Why are you looking at him?!" Bakura snarled, raising a powerful hand only to bring it down upon Ryou's pale cheek with anger and furious vengeance. The one with the gentle honey orbs flew back, hitting the opposing wall with a sickening thud. Letting out a sharp, pain induced whimper, his body, like that of a neglected rag doll, lay barley breathing, limp upon the navy blue carpeted rug. Eyes half lidded, he looked about to see his attacker absent, only seeing the white walls. Oh, how Ryou wished to be cleansed untainted, like that wall. He sighed deeply as he sat up, feeling his face start to numb and swell. Before he would regain his balance, he was struck down once more, this time by a foot clad in a thick leather boot. He let out another shrill cry, falling back against the wall once more, though he didn't fall. Two strong hands pinned his weak shoulders against the hard surface, digging sharp talons into the innocent, virgin flesh. Ryou let out a defenseless whimper as Bakura advanced upon the other, pressing his muscular frame against Ryou's with bruising force. "You're mine, dammit! Mine! Say it!"_

_"Yours."_

_"Go on."_

_"Yours, Bakura."_

_With force, Bakura grasped Ryou's chin and pulled him into a harsh, painful kiss, sliding his serpentine tongue through Ryou's barrier and deep into his mouth, His taste was rather addictive, and Bakura was always ready for a fix. He pulled away, still holding his chin. "Mine."_

He cringed, remembering greedy hands roaming his trembling body, feeling so dirty and tainted. Ryou's thoughts were once more interrupted by blaring applause, 'Afronova' ending with the final fatigue induced steps, as through a drizzle of swear, Malik turned and flashed a soft smile at Ryou. The ashen haired one froze, his eyes falling directly to the floor. A blush hastily formed upon his alabaster cheeks, as he thought to himself, the little voice in his head stammering.

_His smile…i-it's so pure…_

As if Bakura could read the thoughts of the one with the love struck gaze, he shot a glare so vile that if looks could kill, Ryou would have been six feet under within moments. As the gaze connected, Ryou seemed to freeze even furthermore, a cold sweat cascading down his pale face. Malik noticed how Ryou's expression shifted to one of terror, as if untold misfortune were soon to follow. The tanned one followed the apprehensive gaze to the one beside him, Bakura. Malik had to stop and ponder the obvious, He had come to the realization that Bakura was like a tyrant, a fearful look acting as a staff to rule all around him. Just lifting his hand could make everyone below him cower. With his booming voice, he could bring his followers to tears. He couldn't stand this, no, not a life where fear instilled was what caused fearful hearts to cower further and skip a beat.

"Bakura, you are certainly a foul creature."

He cocked an eyebrow, half confused, half annoyed with his comment. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"I know how you work. You don't have the audacity to be a normal person. You have to be a God, worshipped by those you feel are below you. You are far from a God, you're a bully. You don't earn respect, you demand it because you can't get it any other way and you know you can't!"

Bakura's eyes widened. "How dar--!"

"No, Bakura, how dare _you_!" Everyone surrounding gasped and gaped, including the ever timid Ryou. "You don't have the balls to earn respect, so you think that being a feared jackass will provide you with that you lack, which is plenty!"

The room fell silent for moments after the statement, Malik's eyes again shifting to a malice tinted violet. Bakura said nothing, but the onlookers felt they need to chatter mindlessly amongst themselves. What they spoke of was insanely inane, and therefore, annoyed the already snarling beast, like holding a juicy steak before the jowls of a starving jackal, but he said nothing, not even giving a second glance to the one beside him. The room was tense, the air thick with the bitter silence that plagued the ears of everyone surrounding them. After the infectious silence, Bakura chuckled softly, though this soon escalated into a rather amused cackle. Malik lifted an eyebrow as the other regained his composure, the insane laughter reduced to a soft chuckle.

"I'm sorry."

Malik knew he wasn't.

"That was just the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard. You talk so fucking much, but in truth, you know nothing. You don't know anything about me, this game, or the shit you're getting into by challenging me. Like you supposedly know me and can see through me, I can see through you. You're a wannabe, nothing more. You're fooling yourself by playing with me and playing with the big boys."

Almost forgotten were the scores for Afronova. Attentivly, the crowd looked on, gasping at the results.

Player 1: AA

Player 2: AA

Another tie! The crowd roared, though the sound seemed to diminish into a soft him, barley audible over the heavy breathing of the two combatants, whose purpose for their musical war was not but a blur. At first, it was a gladly accepted challenge, and now, it was war! Despite the fact that both of them were an asthmatic catastrophe, they still pushed their fatigued bodies to painful limits, and why? The answer was clear to the two but to no one else around them, for stupidity had rendered them blind. It was obvious why the two men went to Hell and back during the first two songs, and the reason was Ryou.

Oblivious to all of the high strung emotions, the ashen haired one looked on with such intrigue, almost hesitant interest. Though he had no say in his involvement in this battle, he pondered the outcome. In anyone else's eyes, this whole situation of gambling with people instead of money was ludicrous, but Ryou didn't seem to mind. He was almost anxious for the last song to play, the final steps to be taken.

The official made himself vocal for the first time since the game's beginning. "The final song will be chosen by roulette. Each player has obtained one A and one double A each, the scores being close. This final song will decide the winner and as requested by Malik and accepted by Bakura, the winner will have him as a prize." The ref pointed to a blushing Ryou. Like a disease, wild applause spread as Malik was the one to lift his finger to guide the scrolling menu to the roulette option, but Bakura was the one to slam down a crooked index finger onto the glowing green select button.

Round and round the menu spun, names of the songs flashing before their tired gazes. This was it, the final song. With this selection, the favor could be easily swayed towards the pale one or the tanned one. The scale could be tipped with the slightest touch. This would effect Ryou's next thirty days, Malik's life, and Bakura's ever raising blood pressure. The list slowed and the seconds past like minutes, until the final countdown did end and the song that was the grand finale had been chosen.

End Of Century.

The onlookers chattered a bit, but Malik and Bakura jumped right into the seductively addictive booming beats of the randomly selected song, though the thundering bang of their heavy boots sometimes overruled the song. This was about more then music.

Malik lost focus about halfway through, his eyes slurring the arrows into a neon glare. He didn't care, though. He just kept moving. He didn't know what arrows he was hitting anymore, but it mattered not. The music controlled him, mind, body, and soul.

Everyone watched eerily silent, heavy, intense breathing taking the silence's place. The bewildered and apprehensive Ryou only watched, as would the fabled princess locked away in the highest, darkest tower, waiting for the battle for her to end, good vs., evil, man vs. beast. He didn't have to worry for too much longer, however, for the music halted and the scores were tallied.

The two exchanged not even one glance as they waited for the grades. Malik hunched over a bit, feeling the tickling trail of sweat fall down the sides of his face. He caught his breathe, which fought arrest, mind you, as his eyes darted up to the screen when he saw the colors shift and the grades presented.

Player 1: AA

Player 2: A

Bakura's expression of nonchalant confidence swiftly melted into one of pithy hatred. How could this have happened? Malik had beaten Bakura! _No! _His mind snarled as he bared his fangs. _How did this happen?! How could I lose to a stupid punk like him?! _

Bakura didn't even wait for the ginal score to come up. Childishly, he slammed down his foot harshly upon the silve dancepad, storming out of the arcade with no even a closing remark. It was all over. Malik was victorious!

The crowd was chocked, to say the very least. Their jaws hung slack and no sounds could exit their already open mouths, none seeming justly fit the situation at hand. The former dominion prince had been outplayed and overruled by the new people's king.

Soon, everyone left, the last minutes before the arcade closed down the night were rather silent. All fled, except for Ryou. He stood silently beside Malik, who remained on the board, slowly turned his gentle gaze towards his prize…no! How wrong that sounded! His new friend. Placing a gentle hand upon Ryou's shoulder, he spoke softly.

"Come on. Let's get outta here." With that, the tanned one's hand slid from his shoulder and grasped Ryou's pallid hand, giving it a friendly squeeze. Ryou felt his fiery blush return. He could only nod in reply, as all the machines, lights, and shine soon faded into the unforgiving night as the arcade returned to a state of slumber until the next morning.

Ryou, though hand in hand with Malik, walked a substantial amount behind him, his thoughts thrown to the starlit sky. _Maybe, just maybe, this will be okay…for a while…_

----------

_You were my destiny_

_That's how it was supposed to be_

_That's the way it was really meant to be_

_I knew I just had to set you free!_

"_Destiny"_

_::Naoki::_


	4. Take Me Away

**Finally! CHAPTER 4 IS DONE:Cheers: Yay! Anyway…here's the thank yous!**

**LadyWolfTerri: One of the only reasons why I keep writing:Hugs: You'll just have to wait and see what happens when the month is over, doll. Hehe**

ChibiMaouIwa: I don't want to speak to you…but thank you for reviewing…

Ashla: Thank you! I thought it was a cool mix myself. ;3

MariksMyra1614: Thanks…and I don't mean to be rude…but it wasn't me who wrote 'Once Around'. My friend, MouHitoriNoSai wrote it…but still…it's a great fic.

Chibi B-channie: I'm glad you found it too:Smiles: As I also do dedicate an update to someone…this one is for you!

trekkie-54: Hehe! I'm glad my fic got you humming. Hehe! Anyway, enjoy this chapter!

KentouKurige: Of course there's more! This story is near 15 chapters! XD!

Okay…here's the disclaimer, guys!

Malik:Waddles out: Kei doesn't own DDR, Yu-Gi-Oh, or anything of that much importance anyway.

THAT WAS MEAN!

Enjoy the story!

* * *

**Chapter 4: Take Me Away**

The ride home reminded Ryou so much of the rides home with Bakura, straddling the plush leather seat of a motorcycle, feeling the warm metal vibrate between his legs. However, this ride felt a bit different. The cold wind nipped at Ryou's pale cheeks, but he had Malik's strong frame to shield him from the wind's teasingly vicious bite. He had never felt this faint warmth, as if Malik was trying to protect him from even the littlest thing, the most minor offense. He didn't mind it, but felt he didn't deserve it. His slender arms were comfortable wrapped around the tanned one's well toned stomach, fingers nestled snuggly in a pair of gloves Malik had provided. Winter would soon bare ivory icicle fangs, Malik had said, handing him the gloves. _How poetic…_Ryou had thought. Just the faintest hint of kindness Malik had showed made him smile, but that smile never did surface. Ryou's mind still battled with the fact that this current situation was kidnapping with permission! An oxymoron, no?

The scenery would drastically change, warping from the dizzying, bright lights of the buzzing suburb to the silent, distorted darkness. Around him, Ryou heard minute sounds, a random, trivial little bump in the shadows, making Ryou's feather thin body jump and cling tighter still to his 'kidnapper'. Malik didn't much mind; he knew how intimidating the darkness could be, what a looming shadow could do to someone. Malik knew this too well.

They soon arrived at Malik's small dwelling, a home not haunted by the darkness, more like protected by it. As if the darkness knew full well the pain and sorrow which plagued him, constantly mocking him, offering a shadowed hand and abysmal protection from more of the same. Malik's house was a small shack, brick looking ancient, crumbling in thick chunks. Decrepit luxury and broken beauty to the unaware eye; Malik was happy with his quaint little piece of Hell.

Parking his motorcycle, his only luxury in life, in its special little place (Behind a fallen chuck of roof, where slow witted and quick moving burglars wouldn't think of looking. Malik thought himself to be quite clever.), he slid his slender body from the machine, smiling at Ryou, who seemed to forgot to let go of his thin waist. Ryou too dismounted the bike, the first think he saw was Malik rummaging through his pockets, furiously searching as if on a light or death expedition. He lifted an eyebrow as, to add to his insanity, he heard Malik begin to speak to himself.

"Where the hell did I put my damn keys? I just had them a minute ago…Where in Ra's name…?" He was interrupted by a soft giggle, almost inaudible at first, but it was there, almost as soft as a baby's giggle, innocent and gentle. Malik looked up and saw what produced that adorable sound, only seeing Ryou wearing a smile with his index finger outstretched towards the motorcycle, where the tanned one's keys dangled from the ignition. Slightly embarrassed and somewhat flustered, Malik chuckled and attempted to shrug it off, which was fairly simple since by nature, Malik was just overly nonchalant, calm person. Not malice like Bakura, not timid like Ryou, not snobby like Duke, nope! Malik was just himself.

Retrieving his keys, he trotted up the worn stairs, as if he was proud to live in, let's be blunt, the shithole he had all to himself. This home _did _belong to his father (Or, more commonly referred to as 'that bastard that left') before he did desert his family, but hey, his father leaving meant one thing for the Egyptian.

Free house.

But, that was beside the point. He pushed open the old chestnut door and slipped into the inviting shadows. Swallowing hard, the apprehensive Ryou pondered if he would even enter at all.

_I could easily run, he'd never catch me. Where would I go, back to Bakura's? Pfft, yeah right… _Pushing his boyishly thin frame through the door, he was met with a sturdy barricade, that of Malik's chest. Ryou blushed, pulling away as Malik only chuckled.

"Thought you ran off on me." He smiled.

_Almost._

"I welcome you to my home. I know it's not much, but you're welcome to whatever's here."

At first glance, it seemed the entire dwelling was one long hallway. That was semi-true. The first left would lead to a small living room, consisting of a smaller torn up couch, looking as if it was found on a street corner (It was.). Beside it, a few plastic milk crates as end tables, upon each, rather diminutive lamps which provided eerily dull light, casting lanky, misshapen shadows upon the floor. Before the couch was a petit television, accompanied by a rather war torn Playstation and a DDR pad, seeming to have lasted through many centuries (An over exaggeration, but to the same extent. That was his first pad, still in working order. Old Faithful, a well chosen nickname.)

Moving on, the first corridor on the right was a quaint kitchen, housing a small rounded table that now looked like a semi-circle because of a large chunk that happened to be missing from one of the rounded edges. Two wobbly wooden chairs accompanied the table, both of two completely different styles and colors. Mix and match, very in this season.

After the kitchen, the final doorway on the left, was Malik's bedroom. Upon entering, all that could be noticed was that he had very _interesting _wallpaper. From a distance, it looked like nothing more then a white backdrop with little black scribbles scattered throughout it. With closer examination, those black scribbles appeared to be words, lyrics to be exact. As Ryou followed Malik through the halls, he eyed this creative wallpaper with fixated fascination.

"Oh," Sighed the tanned one softly, pointing to one of the sheets of 'wallpaper'. "Lyrics to DDR songs. Yeah, I'm weird." Ryou quickly shook his head as if to decline to Malik's accusation. "Heh. It's odd, actually. Each song has gotten me through some hard time. Such as…hmmm…ah-ha!" He lifted his finger, drawing attention to one of the pieces of paper, many of the verses highlighted in a now dulled yellow. " 'You're Not Here', DDR Extreme. Reminds me of, well, my family." Closing his eyes, he softly mumbled one of the lines highlighted, Ryou looking on with curious eyes. "Never thought I'd sit around and cry for your love 'till now..." Looking up, his violet eyes wavering just a bit, he began to explain a tale never told to ears who didn't want to listen. "My mother tried as hard as she could to raise us, me and my sister, I mean. She had us really young, so while we were kids, so was she. She just wasn't ready to be a mom. My dad, that bastard that left, wasn't much help either. I don't know why, but he hated me, hated this family, so he left. My sister…one day, she just left…never saw her again. Kinda miss her." Throughout the entire story, Malik, like a playful jester performing for all to see, wore a smile as happy and carefree as he only hoped he could be. Ryou, on the other hand, fought back tears which were desperate to fall and leave saddened trails down his saddened, pale cheeks.

_Like me…he's alone…family's disappeared, nothing more then the how that he can learn to be lonely…he's suffered so much, and yet he can still smile, still laugh…_

"But, whatever…I'm good with it!" With a boyish grin, he spun upon his heel, as if every care in the world, everything that burdened him, was painlessly lifted from his shoulders. "I've learned to be lonely."

Shocked was but an understatement. Ryou's jaw hung slack as he replayed the words like a favorite movie scene, the sound quality still clear, the picture still perfect. _The same words…the same exact thought…How can this be possible? I've only known him for a few hours, but just looking into his eyes, hearing him speak, I feel like I've known him for years…_Ryou once more examined Malik's face, allowing his eyes to glide over his beautifully curved features, his elegant angles and brilliant accents. Malik looked as if the Gods handpicked this boy as the one who would carry such a burden as envy invoking beauty. Eyes like amethysts set in a creamy caramel base, flaxen strands of sun bleached hair caressing that frame shapped by the callused, favoring hands of those who did bless him,

And yet, Ryou still wouldn't admit that he was gay.

_Not gay…I just like men more then women._

So, bisexual? At least some progress is being made.

_No, not that either. I don't like women that way._

So, you are gay!

_Not at all._

This argument never seemed to seize and then again, why does it bother us? He's the one in denial.

_Am not._

* * *

The rest of the evening was quite somber, Malik speaking of his past and his forgotten childhood. They sat on the war torn couch, some distance apart, however Malik didn't really care. He knew that Ryou was either really scared, really nervous, or really pissed, so he didn't really expect Ryou to talk or welcome the situation with open arms. Fact is, Malik had never heard him talk. This perplexed him while it also intrigued him, but he wasn't one to ask questions about subjects that seemed taboo. He didn't really care, is all; Malik spoke enough for four people, so what was one person's understandable silence? 

Twilight soon defeated the lingering dusk, casting a dark shadow along the horizon. With an obnoxiously loud yawn and a rather uncoordinated stretch, he glanced over towards his guest, who only awkwardly fiddled with his frail fingers.

"Well, I'm beat. I'll sleep out here and you can take my bed. It's not the most comfortable thing in the world but…" He was interrupted by a head shaking, declining his offer. "Please….I'd feel horrible making you sleep on something this ragged." Again, the innocent one silently declined. "Come on…um…" A dumbstruck look swept across his brow as he chuckled. "I just realized that I don't even know your name. Tell me. I'll remember."

With such a kind request and such a welcoming smile, Ryou couldn't refuse him. He slowly parted his thin lips and uttered softly. "Ryou."

The Egyptian's gaze mingled with Ryou's delicate curved and discreetly alluring eyes. He never knew this existed, a voice so untainted by the world's wickedness and ever thriving evil, a gaze so pure. Ryou was a snowflake in Hell's fiery grip, and yet he still help on, still battled through tournaments of doubt. He was something special, and Malik knew it.

"Ryou…I like it…it suits you." Malik smiled as blush consumed Ryou's cheeks. He didn't understand it, not did Ryou have anything against it, but the way Malik looked at him sent chills up his spine. Those lavender ors seemed to peer into his soul, probe his inner most self, a gaze Ryou would still see, even as his eyes fluttered shut, drifting into a, for once, comfortable sleep in Malik's bed. (Yes, Malik had finally persuaded his guest to take his bed. How? No idea. Malik was always one to get his way, as enigmatic and discreet as they were)

Malik laid awake, head resting against the armrest of the couch. Starting up at the slightly cracked ceiling, his thoughts rampaged, mind drifter into states of subconscious where the questions wee unanswerable, though yearned to be resolved.

_Why Ryou? What was so special about him that Bakura would cling to him so tightly? Why someone as innocent and as peaceful as him? _Malik turned his limber body over, now peering into each polyester blended fiber of the ancient couch. Sighing deeply, he let his eyelids curtain his weary orbs, one final dwindling thought lulling him deep into sleep.

_Either way…I saved him…took him away…_

_

* * *

_

Take me away

_A million miles away from here_

_Take me away_

_Find a place for you and me_

_You're taking me higher_

_As high as I could be_

_  
:4 Strings:

* * *

Any comments you may have, suggestions, or the what not...feel free to comment! ;3 _


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